The Tomato Princeling
by zazial
Summary: The son of a footballer and painter, Lovino Romano Vargas is kidnapped by his mother at the age of five and spirited away to Spain. After 4 years of hiding, Lovino picks the lock to their apartment to find a place to run again. With the help of an overly cheerful Spanish teenager and his rather international group of friends, Lovino discovers freedom through the Beautiful Game.
1. Chapter 1

The Tomato Princeling

Rating: T

Characters: South Italy/Lovino Romano Vargas, Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt, France/Francis Bonnefoy, England/Arthur Kirkland, Ancient Rome/Roma Silvia, OC Scotland/Mary Kirkland, Seychelles/Veronique Michel, Greece/Herakles Karpusi, Norway/Lukas Bøndevik and Denmark/ Matthias Andersen

Pairings: Implied future Spamano, Prussia/Female Scotland, France/Seychelles, Spain/England (if you squint)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Thank goodness Hidekazu Himaruya encourages us to play with his creations!

Chapter One

_Madrid, Spain_

_May 21, 2013_

A sweet but determined soprano voice interrupted his dreams, the same as every morning. Lovino Romano Vargas rolled over and groaned as his mother sang her usual partisan song like some ridiculous alarm clock while she baked breakfast.

_"Una mattina mi son svegliato_  
_o bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao,_  
_una mattina mi son svegliato_  
_e ho trovato l'invasor"_

'What's her obsession with that song anyway!?' Lovino wondered. He was a grumpy little nine-year-old even on a regular day, but this morning he had been having a good dream so his mood upon being woken was even worse. The dream had warmed his little heart and tugged at something familiar that his mind had repressed for the past four years.

Four years ago his mother had picked him up from school as she always did in her little Fiat. When he climbed into the car she was smiling as usual but as she sped off he realized that she was bleeding, bruised and scratched all over. Despite being terrified, Lovino had the sense to rummage for the standard first aid kit kept in the car but discovered that he had no idea what to do with it. What good was a small cold pack when she was bruised everywhere? Or bandages for her hands when she refused to pull over and release the steering wheel? In tears, Lovino begged his Mama to stop the car at a hospital, but she didn't listen. For hours she smiled, sang songs, spoke about food and completely ignored him in a terribly misguided attempt to comfort him about her health and state of mind. That was the beginning of this new life and what he usually dreamed about.

As far back as Lovino could remember, his dreams had been plagued by worries and nightmares about his mother. In one dream she disappeared and never came home, leaving him locked up and alone. In another she had died with that falsely happy smile stuck on her face. Often she was running away from some shadowy figure and he would kick and snarl at it but his efforts were ultimately helpless. He also dreamed of that first car ride when she took him away, driving all the way from their hometown of Rome to Naples, before going on the run again. They finally stopped in Madrid and Lovino did not know why. All he knew what that this tiny, run-down studio on the city's outskirts had been their home for the past four years.

Last night though, he had dreamed of a big green field surrounded by empty seats. A jovial dark-haired man was teaching him footwork with a proper football. Lovino knew the ball was the real thing, the sleek, smooth kind used for competitions, not the playground version with black and white hexagons. Lovino was learning how to dribble, pass and generally just ran around on the field, laughing. When Lovino got bored or tired, the man would stop and dazzle him with trick moves, bouncing the ball on his head, or on a single foot, or running around with a smile, keeping Lovino mesmerized. The man wore a blue jersey, which Lovino somehow knew was the Azzuro – the uniform of the Italian national team. The sight of it filled him with love, warmth and pride, though it had more to do with the man currently lifting him in the air. This man taught him the meaning of pride, he was Italy as far as Lovino knew, and Italy was his home and even though he could not remember it properly. Lovino thought about how much he missed it every single day.

This was the dream which his mother's exuberant 'Bella, Ciao!' had interrupted. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his eyes in an effort to hold on to the dream, but the man's laughter, the pride and the field were already fading.

"Buenos Días!" His mother exclaimed, jumping on the bed and pulling her son into a great big bear hug.

"Mama! Don't!" He fussed. "It's too early to wake up, Mama!" Lovino's protests were loudly voiced in Italian, he didn't care for his mother's odd home-schooling method. Today was Monday, and Mondays were "Spanish days" but as far as he was concerned, he was Italian and by God he would speak his language more than just two on the weekend.

"Cariño! Das Mamá abrazos hmmm? Por favor?" She smiled. He glared at the ceiling, angrily refusing to look into her pleading eyes.

Sensing perhaps that today was an especially moody day for her son, his mother did not push. She only curbed her enthusiasm and settled back on the futon they shared, regarding him carefully. He turned away from her, lying on his stomach and refusing to move. When he heard her sigh his heart made a twisted, guilty turn but he pretended not to care.

"Tú desayuno es en el horno." She tried again, bubbly and cheerful.

Yes, he could smell the freshly baked cornetto waiting for him; he didn't need it spelled out. He stayed where he was, ignoring her.

After a protracted silence, she leaned down and placed a kiss on the back of his head. "Te amo mi Lovi." She sighed, sounding sad and a little defeated. He felt her weight lift off their futon and he held still until he heard her leave the apartment.

Lovino remained in bed a little while longer, because he was crying and didn't want to make a sound even though he was alone in the apartment. He hated days like this, when he woke up immediately feeling hopeless. He was too small to change his life or to take care of his mother. He could only stay locked in their apartment.

Lovino had no idea what his mother's job was, only that she worked six days out of the week to sustain their home. His choice words to describe it were actually 'piece of shit apartment' but he never used that language in front of his mother. For all her smiles and apparent cheerfulness, Lovino knew that her eyes were actually sad and he tried his best not to make it worse. On some days however, he couldn't help himself. He was terrified of what she was capable of on the rare occasions when she lost her temper, and he felt incredibly guilty when she was sad. Because of these conflicting emotions, Lovino let his mother enforce a few rules in their home:

1) No going outside without her. She would lock the iron gate in front of their apartment door whenever she left for the day.

2) No television. Lovino was not allowed to watch any and to this end, there was none in their home. Neither was there a computer, tablet, smartphone, or anything he could stream from. Even the radio they had was old and had no antennae. It was only used to play his mother's music CDs and occasionally for lessons.

3) No phone calls to anyone except his mother. This was easy to enforce, as his cellphone was a simple pre-paid with minimal balance to which only she knew the number. He was only allowed to have the phone so that he could call her in an emergency. She would also check his phone in the evenings to make sure the balance had not mysteriously disappeared. She had used the phone to check on him throughout the day when they had first arrived but now that they were more settled in, she usually only called in the early evening.

4) Study. Lovino did not go to school. He had not attended school since that day when they had run away. To compensate, his mother bought textbooks and taught him in the evenings if she was not too tired, leaving him assignments for the day. He was the worst student that ever lived and often ignored his homework.

5) Language. They were Italians, but they lived in Spain and his mother seemed to think he needed to speak English as well. Consequently, they spoke Italian on the weekends and second half of Fridays, English on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Spanish on Mondays, Wednesdays and the first half of Fridays.

6) Prayers. His mother was very religious and tried her best t take him to church on her Sundays off.

As he could not change his situation until he was old enough to actually do what he thought a man was supposed to do- to protect her or beat the shit out of anyone who already would or had-Lovino just had to continue living with this situation at present. In the early years of this living arrangement, that frustration overwhelmed him and he would destroy whatever he saw, often leading to him destroying cups and plates, since they were the easiest to break. Lovino only stopped after his mother finally lost her temper at him. To his horror, she picked up one of the shards and cut a jagged wound across her arm to show him how dangerous his destructive tendencies were.

Since that event, Lovino learned to be more careful of his little acts of rebellion, considering first any possible way his mother could hurt herself. In the end he settled on ignoring whatever he was supposed to do when she wasn't home. He sang loudly in Italian, and played instead of doing his work. He practiced football tricks that his body somehow remembered with an old ball. There was only one thing missing – running. Lovino missed running and there were days when he wished that he could just run endlessly. He didn't even care where.

Today was such a day. After finishing his cornetto and drinking the heated milk his mother had left for him, Lovino rushed to the kitchen and fished a knife out from the drawer. He went straight to the iron gate in front of the door. He had figured out how to pick the lock a few weeks ago but other than three brief runs out in nearby streets, had not used much of his newfound freedom.

Emboldened by this freedom, Lovino had lifted a guy's wallet on his second time outside. After the initial panic, he realized he was not going to get caught and started thinking about what to do with his new treasure. He used the stolen money to buy candy and, after careful observation of people mulling at a bus-stop, a metrocard.

And so, lucky and well-equipped, Lovino decided that today he would take a bus. He would keep track of the stops and get out in a place where he could run; a field or something.

After a nerve-wracking period of picking the lock and carefully making his way out to the street, he was ready and waiting at the bus stop. Taking note of the number, Lovino stepped onto the first bus that arrived and sat in the front next to a busy, middle-aged woman chatting on her phone. He liked distracted people, because they left him alone as he desperately gazed out the window at the streets passing by. The moving buildings and trees from the window relaxed him, and he started savoring the newness of his freedom. He drank in everything allowing the smells of the city to assault him after so many years of living in one little apartment. It was at once the longest and shortest bus ride in his life – long because everything was so new and had to be processed. Short because he did not wish to stay on too long, lest he lose track of his stops.

Lovino had no idea what made him get off the bus when he did. Much later in his life he would suppose it was nothing short of an Act of God, and even Antonio - who never attended church unless Lovino dragged him along – had to agree.

But step off Lovino did, and he walked, savoring his freedom and the different, now almost grassy smell of the surrounding air. He stopped when he heard voices, energetic laughter and the sounds of running feet. Running. Lovino remembered that he had escaped today in order to find somewhere to run.

When he finally climbed up the slight grassy hill and looked over the other side to where the sounds came from, Lovino could only stare at the wide dirt field, where backpacks, sticks and thrown down jerseys left a rough outline of a large square boundary. He stared at the shorter lengths of the field, where two stones as large as his head served as makeshift goals and groups of boys were running and kicking a football (a proper one like in his dream!) between each other. They were older than him, one team dressed in shirts that were faded shades of red, and the other in blues.

Lovino's heart started thumping hard and fast, his eyes widened and suddenly the world was clear. He wanted to join the older boys running in front of him, to chase that ball and clear a path down that dirt field. Memories returned even clearer, a ball kicked over soft green grass, the encouraging dark-haired man running and playing with him. Suddenly those memories stopped because a smiling green-eyed and chestnut-haired Spanish teenager was standing right in front of him. Lovino screamed in surprise and abruptly fell over backwards, causing the other kids to stop playing and run over.

Lovino flushed a brilliant red at the sudden attention. He stared at the Spaniard uncomprehending for a moment, until he was forced to accept that yes, this bastard was speaking to him in Spanish and dammit, for all of Lovino's Italian pride, he could understand what was being said.

"Well, look at you!" Exclaimed the smiling teenager before turning around and calling out to his friends "How cute! This kid is blushing all over so much he looks like a little tomato!"

Lovino wanted to bury his head in the sand out of embarrassment, but instead he head-butted that damned smiling idiot as soon as he turned back.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"Antonio! Why are you terrifying children when you're supposed to be defending!" Another teenager ran into Lovino's line of sight, helping his friend up. This teenager had blonde, wavy hair tied into a ponytail. There was something off about his accent, and while he also spoke Spanish, he was not native, but Lovino could not place that careful, slower tempo and softer pronunciation. "Oh but isn't he just a beautiful little thing!" The odd-sounding teenager suddenly cooed, making a rather stupid, simpering face. "If rather skinny." After a brief pause, his blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, well, would you just look at those pretty eyes? What a…unique shade of light green. Mon Dieu! Life is not fair! I should have such beautiful eyes! Oh but I want to pinch those cheeks! Don't you Antonio?"

Shocked, Lovino only turned wide-eyed at the original teenager. He seemed much less frightening.

"Forget his eyes Francis!" The Spaniard wailed, glaring at Lovino. "He hits hard with that head! I thought you were cute!"

Alien laughter approached Lovino from behind. Shuddering a little now, Lovino turned around. "Kesesesese…you just got your ass kicked by a kid. Thought you were a tough guy, Antonio!"

This third person was unlike anything Lovino had ever seen. He didn't even bother trying to place the odd accent because this guy had white hair and red eyes! Red eyes like a damned demon. Trembling suddenly, Lovino started edging away, looking for a place to run.

"Hey runt!" The red-eyed boy called out, somewhat more gently this time. "Don't let Antonio and Francis scare you off now. The awesome ME will protect you! You just interrupted our play running into the middle of our game like that. Not all that safe for a kid like you."

Surprised, Lovino looked around carefully. He had indeed run into the middle of the game and was now standing in the center of the makeshift field. The Spaniard called Antonio had been in possession of the ball. Chuckling, Antonio moved to kneel in front of him, looking into his eyes.

"Let's start over again shall we, little tomato?"

"Don't call me that bastardo!" Lovino yelled. Antonio only raised his eyebrows and regarded Lovino carefully.

"That's quite a word for a little kid like you! What shall we call you then hmm? If you don't tell me, I'll just have to keep calling you the Little Tomato!"

Backing up from Antonio and yelling blasphemies in Italian, Lovino eyed the three boys carefully. Finally he looked at the other teenagers gathered around. There was something different about this group, none of them looked the same. In his previous journeys outside he had noticed an air of commonality in crowds, something Spanish, or something Italian, but something told Lovino that with the exception of Antonio, these kids were not locals. Still they did not appear to be kidnappers or anything so scary, just a bunch of guys who got together to play football. It was common enough.

"Romano." He finally muttered. He wondered why he didn't tell them his first name, but so many years of hiding forced him to only be half-truthful.

"It's nice to meet you Romano! I'm Antonio, this Frenchie here is Francis and over there," Antonio waved at his red-eyed friend, "Is Gilbert."

When Lovino nodded and muttered something about how he didn't care one way or the other who they were, Antonio only laughed harder and ignored everything he said. "So, Little Tomato, you wanna watch us play?"

"Hey! Don't call me that!" there was something about the way this Antonio guy never stopped smiling that made Lovino inclined not to trust him. "And I don't want to watch you play, I'm gonna teach you all how to play!"

"Oh?" Antonio answered in mock curiosity. "By all means then, teach us how to play." He stretched his arm out to where the ball had rolled to and there was something different in his tone now. It was sharper and challenging. Though his smile was still in place, there was less warmth to it and Lovino knew that he had crossed a line somewhere. Despite this, he knew he wanted to stay. Lovino wanted, no, needed to play real football and bouncing a deflated old ball around carefully in the apartment was not going to satisfy him anymore. He wanted to play with others, to play the game as it was meant to be played. He had run in open fields once, and he wanted to again. He wanted to stay here with these teenagers and run free.

"F-f-fine! Bastardo." Lovino stammered, blushing red again. "I'll show you how football is meant to be played!"

And even though Lovino was only nine years old, he did. The older boys laughed or smiled patiently, stepping off the field to let Lovino face off against Antonio. Francis rolled his eyes, smiling, but Gilbert shot Antonio a warning glare as if to say 'don't bully the kid.' Then they realized that Lovino was hopping in place and juggling the ball on his two feet with surprising precision. Once Lovino had distracted them for an appropriate amount of time, he started tearing down the field, running around Antonio. Lovino stayed and played with the older boy for a while, kicking the ball between Antonio's legs before darting around to dribble the ball away and sending it sailing between the two rocks that served as the goal.

Lovino turned to smirk at Antonio, but Antonio only stared at where the ball had landed, eyebrows raised as if to say "Well…".

What he really said, harsh and challenging was, "Okay Tomato, I underestimated you. Let's see you get past me again."

"Here." Francis threw the ball back into the pitch with a grin, having run to retrieve it. Lovino tore off towards it the moment it hit the ground. This time Antonio took him more seriously and Lovino couldn't play around like before (though he did a little, kicking the ball back and stalling it on the back of his foot before resuming). Lovino couldn't help but add a little scissor around the ball while he ran with it down the field. He knew he was taunting and embarrassing Antonio but he couldn't help it, he just felt so free that he wanted to play for everything this moment was worth. Before too long though, he kicked the ball to the goal again, where Gilbert caught it and threw it back.

Slowly, each of the players came back onto the field, except for Francis who sat out, and a game began in earnest. Antonio was a Red, while Lovino found himself adopted by Francis' and Gilbert's Blues. Lovino also discovered that while Antonio was a menace and a decent defender, Gilbert was as good as a wall in front of the goal. He was probably lucky that they were on the same team otherwise there would be no way he could have defeated the Reds so easily. Still, when the Blues won, they hoisted him above their shoulders and sang songs in several languages, tossing him up and down and tickling him before finally setting him down. Lovino's face hurt from smiling and laughing so much. It felt like forever since he smiled and it was the happiest he had been in a very long time.

When Antonio ran over, all genuine smiles again to pick him up and swing him around, Lovino suddenly went limp because he was exhausted. Lovino had not run for years and now he was winded, breathing hard and dizzy. Antonio was calling out to him, concerned, his face scrunched in worry as he settled Lovino on the ground and Gilbert ran water over. To Lovino the world seemed blurry and too bright, but after a while he recovered, guzzled the water down and looked up at the sky. It was getting late and his mother would call soon. Looking wide-eyed at Antonio, Lovino stammered half-hearted thanks and goodbyes and made to run off.

"Not so fast!" Antonio held on tightly to Lovino's arm.

"P-P-Please! Let me go! I have to go home!" Lovino begged. When Antonio didn't let go and started eyeing him suspiciously, Lovino felt so helpless he started to cry. "PLEASE! Just let me go damnit! Bastardo let me go! I promise I'll never bother you again!"

The tears softened Antonio, and if Lovino were more aware, he would have noticed Gilbert and Francis looking concerned as well. Antonio still didn't let go but he did kneel on the ground in front of Lovino again, wiping the tears away with his other hand.

"Hey there little Tomato," he cooed. "Don't be like that. We would love it if you came back here tomorrow if you can. In fact, over the summer we're here everyday except the weekend. It's up to you."

With that said, Antonio released him and Lovino turned and sprinted away as fast as he could without a second glance. He managed to get on the right bus and snuck back into the apartment with a few hours to spare before his mother returned. By that point, he had washed his clothes to get the dirt out of them and hung them up to dry. For good measure, he washed his mother's clothes as well so it wouldn't look too suspicious, and then he ate the food she left in the fridge and collapsed into an exhausted sleep.

When his mother returned, she noted that her son had done her the great favor of doing their laundry and had flooded the bathroom, leaving a trail of washing powder all over the tiny apartment. She appreciated the gesture but it was no wonder that her son was so exhausted. Smiling, she cleaned up his mess and gave him a kiss before pouring herself a glass of wine to hum 'Bella, Ciao' softly in her usual dark corner.

* * *

Some terms:

Juggling - Exactly what it sounds like and with one ball, except Lovino is using his feet, alternating bouncing the football between each foot's instep.

Dribbling - The act of controlling the ball while running.

Scissoring - Swinging a foot around in front of the ball while dribbling and kicking with the other foot. This serves to confuse the defender/person in front of you. To the average audience, it kind of just looks like you're dancing around the ball :P

Finally, I've found that 'Bella Ciao' is a favorite amongst Hetalia fans for the Italy brothers, so I've just come to associate the song with them and by extension, their family. For the version I was thinking of when I wrote this fic:  
watch?v=vX-03Urdgp8

-  
Hello and thanks for reading!

1. This story is actually a prequel to the one that I originally intended to write first - 'The Beautiful Game' - which is a Spamano tale about the Vargas brothers in professional football, their relationships and the lead-up to the World Cup. Then it didn't make much sense without some backstory, which is what 'The Tomato Prince' provides. I started writing this because while I love watching the World Cup, I'm boycotting this year's Cup in Brazil (2014), as well as the next 2 in 2018 and 2022 to protest the massive violation of human rights occurring in Qatar to build the World Cup's infrastructure. So far more than 1,200 laborers have died due to poor working and living conditions, and the number increases every day. I'm also boycotting FIFA generally as I disagree with their rather ridiculous demands and suspected corruption in awarding hosting rights.  
While I'm unable to watch the game and tournament that I love, I'm going to write about it instead. Thankfully, Hetalia lends itself quite well to international sporting competitions :D

2. There's not going to be much romance in this story. It's more a tale about a kid loving a game and remembering where he came from when he plays it.

3. I was born in the States and attended American schools all my life, but was raised in the Commonwealth, so I'm going to refer to the sport as 'Football' through this story. If however, my other football terms ever get mixed up between American and the rest of the world, please forgive me and let me know about them :D.

4. Oh and finally, I'd really appreciate a beta reader for this series, so please feel free to send me a message if you're interested!


	2. Chapter 2

The Tomato Princeling

Football!AU

Rating: T

Characters: South Italy/Lovino Romano Vargas, Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt, France/Francis Bonnefoy, England/Arthur Kirkland, Ancient Rome/Roma Silvia, OC Scotland/Mary Kirkland, Seychelles/Veronique Michel, Norway/Lukas Bøndevik and Denmark/ Matthias Andersen

Pairings: Prussia/Female Scotland, France/Seychelles, Spain/England (implied past)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Thank goodness Hidekazu Himaruya encourages us to play with his creations!

* * *

Note: Hi guys! I'm still looking for a beta for this fic, especially if you're a football fan as well. Please do contact me if you're interested!

Well, with Brazil 2014 under way, my decision to boycott FIFA and the next 3 world cups remains strong, but I am rather frustrated. I really wish I could watch. I've therefore poured these frustrations into writing.

Do note that this is a kind of parallel universe, so I will make up the victors for 2014, 2018 and 2022 in this series. Heehee, they're no one to bet over, just my personal guesses or biases. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two

The next day, Lovino hesitated after he managed to pick the lock. Standing before the open door, what felt like a million little worries overcame him – how long would it take until he was caught? When would his mother discover him and change the lock or make him leave Spain? What if he was kidnapped? What if whatever they were hiding from found him? How could he possibly play without getting his clothes dirty again? It was impossible!

But Lovino couldn't bring himself the close the door and lock himself in again. There was nothing for him in the empty apartment but frustration, boredom and hopelessness. Beyond the door, there was at least the promise of an extra day of freedom, wherever that would lead. With shaking fingers, Lovino stepped out the door. Even after he ran out to the street, boarded the familiarly numbered bus and found himself at the field, he was still shaking.

Then the ground left him and Lovino screamed while being tossed into the air. Laughter and a frighteningly jubilant voice greeted him, "Tomato! You came back!" Antonio cheered once he caught Lovino again. Startled, Lovino could only stare at this crazy Spanish teenager and his happy green eyes.

Lovino heard the others laughing, shaking him out of his stupor. His face felt hot with embarrassment, which of course led to Antonio cooing like Lovino was some kind of small dog.

"Oh look at that red face! That's our little TomatoOH!" Antonio doubled over in jest as Lovino punched him in the stomach.

"Stupid Spaniard." Lovino muttered. He realized then that his hand hurt and shook it out. "Ow! Why the fuck is your stomach so hard bastardo?!"

Laughing some more, Antonio ignored the question, sat on the grass and started pulling out some clothes from his backpack. "Anyway, Tomato, I'm happy that you came back because otherwise I'd have to figure out what to do with these. But since you're here, you can wear them like you were meant to!"

Curious, Lovino stepped closer, not really believing his eyes. Antonio was pulling the paper and plastic tags off what looked to be a set of new sports clothes – a shiny navy blue shirt, black shorts and socks. 'There's no way,' Lovino thought. 'These can't be for me.'

Antonio, being the clueless person he was, continued talking while pulling out the tags. "I meant to get you a proper pair of shoes as well, though your current sneakers seemed to do well enough yesterday. But then, I realized that I have no idea how big your little feet are! Haha! Nevermind, let me look at your shoes today okay? It's really easy for me to stop back at the Nike store on my way home. Anyway, try the shirt on at least, so I know if it fits!"

Lovino could only stare in shock at the shirt being held out to him. It would be a little big on him, but not much. It certainly wasn't going to fit Antonio. Apparently it was for him, and Lovino could only blush and look away, shaking again, little hands balling into fists. He was so confused, why did this complete stranger buy him clothes? Why was Antonio so nice? What did he want? Lovino had nothing to give. Surely Antonio and the rest of these obviously rich kids knew that. Then Lovino felt relieved because one of the problems plaguing him all morning about wearing out his clothes was just partially solved. But why would anyone do this for him?

"Hey Tomato come on!" Antonio pleaded, breaking Lovino out of his thoughts. "It's just a shirt, if you don't like the color that's easy enough to change!"

Looking at Antonio's frustrated and hurt face, Lovino shook his head, trying to say something along the lines of, "I don't need your pity!" or "You didn't need to do this, what kind of dumb idiot are you?" or even "What the fuck? Do you just buy clothes for every kid you see on the street?!" but to his horror, the only thing coming out from him was tears, falling warm down his face and snot leaking from his nose. He tried to hide behind his hands, but his shoulders just convulsed from the sobs, while arms and a larger body enveloped him in a warm hug.

"Shhhhh Romano, it's okay. Why are you crying hmm?"

Footsteps came running close but Lovino only held tightly onto Antonio and cried into the older boy's shoulder, embarrassed but unable to stop.

A deeper girl's voice broke through, yelling in English, although her accent was impossible to decipher. Lovino clung to Antonio even as he looked up to see who she was. 'Dear God,' he thought to himself. 'Please tell me I didn't just break down and start crying in front of a girl.' It was a minor unanswered prayer, because she was a girl - red haired, as tall as Gilbert who was running up behind her, pale and blessed with a pair of blazing green eyes that were being met by Antonio's concerned ones.

"Relax Mary," Antonio replied carefully in English, still holding Lovino and patting him on the back reassuringly. "I was giving Romano some of the stuff I got him yesterday and he just started crying. I think this kid has just been very strong for a long time. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I'm going to find out."

With that declaration, Lovino stiffened and pulled away. 'No,' he thought to himself. 'He can't find out. I can't let him find us, can't let him find Mama. Damn I'm such an idiot for coming back here!' He glared at Antonio cautiously.

The Spaniard looked at him curiously, head cocked to the side. "Well, well." He responded in English. "You can understand English _Tomate_. How about that."

The girl, Mary stepped forward and tried to say something to him, her tone kind and questioning, but try as he might, Lovino really could not understand her. What accent was that?

Gilbert stepped forward, with a smile. "Sorry _Distel_*, but the way you talk takes some time to get used to."

Lovino scoffed. "Shut up weirdo." He spat out in Spanish. "I barely understood you just now anyway! Unless any of you are going to speak English that I can understand, we will speak in Spanish!...Or Italian."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, smirking a little at the attitude, while Antonio burst out with laughter. He ran over and hugged Lovino again before wiping the snot away with a handkerchief. Before Lovino had a chance to fight him off, he was released with his new shirt draped around his shoulders.

"You're a smart kid Tomato!" Antonio cheered, reverting back to Spanish. Turning to Gilbert and Mary, he called out. "Can you guys just give us a minute?" Both nodded and turned to run warm up laps around the field. Satisfied, Antonio looked down with a smile. "Mary's a great girl. She's from Scotland though, so she can be difficult to understand, in any language. Any Gilbert's from…" he chuckled. "Prussia. Anyway, why don't you try that shirt on? It's really yours! And if you hate the color, just tell me what your favorite color is okay?"

Lovino nodded, eyeing Antonio warily. He had no idea where Scotland or Prussia were, or what was so funny about the second country. Lovino also hadn't forgotten what was said earlier, but Antonio was smiling brightly, as if he already had. Shrugging, Lovino pulled his shirt off and handed it to Antonio, who took it, observing Lovino carefully.

'Great,' Lovino thought, trying to clear his sniffles. 'He probably thinks I'm going to cry again.' It was truly getting embarrassing. He had only known Antonio for two days and had cried in front of him twice already. Lovino was not one to cry easily either; he held it in for his mother's sake. Pushing those thoughts aside, Lovino pulled down his new shirt and reveled a little in how smooth and cooling it felt. It was a little big, but that hardly mattered.

Antonio must have thought the same, because he smiled again and said "Good! Better a little big than too small. You can grow into it. Now you can put the rest on, leave your clothes in my bag and you can change back after we're done okay?"

With a grin, Antonio ran off to join the rest running laps around the field, and after a moment, Lovino joined them.

By some miracle, Lovino was not discovered for the rest of that summer. Though he faced nerves and trepidation every morning, in the end he always decided to step out the door, drawn to the freedom of the field and the warm welcome that greeted him. The football group became almost a second family to Lovino. They welcomed him to every game, started each day off with a giant potluck picnic that served as lunch, brought lots of bottled water to keep him hydrated, and once even took him to the doctor when they suspected he was ill.

They came from different private schools across Madrid. Most were diplomats' children, attending international schools around the city. Francis was the son of the French Ambassador, attending one of the many French Schools. Gilbert was his friend visiting over the summer, while Mattias was from Denmark and attended the American school along with Lukas from Norway. Antonio was one of the few locals and attended an elite boarding school. They had met through the school year in inter-school sports competitions, and somehow ended up forming this summer league for those who did not go home for the holidays. They were all about seven years older than him, with Antonio, Francis and Gilbert being sixteen.

Since they were teenagers, there were romances aplenty that Lovino witnessed with embarrassment and sometimes confusion. Matthias and Lukas were dating, which initially confused Lovino, but otherwise did not raise a reaction from him, to everyone's surprise. Lovino had been sheltered for too long to understand why such a thing should. He was more surprised that Lukas even liked Matthias in the first place with all the insults and abuse the Norwegian boy threw at the Dane. Lovino felt like he could relate to Lukas though, because Matthias was always overwhelmingly affectionate, irritating, loud and was prone to showing off. He could tell some amazing stories though.

Francis was dating a pretty Indian girl from the Seychelles named Veronique. She was rather hopeless at playing football, but was happy to cheer loudly on the sidelines. That pair traumatized Lovino quite by accident one day. He arrived early to the field and saw them embracing half naked behind a tree that couldn't hide anything. He felt like he had screamed for hours, until Antonio arrived to take him aside (still screaming) and Gilbert yelled at both Francis and Veronique about kids, their ability to be where you never expect them and being careful. After that, Lovino had to fight the urge to run away screaming whenever he saw either Francis or Veronique approach him.

But Lovino's favorite person was Mary. He would blush in her presence out of nerves, stammer and fumble the ball. He would run up to her the moment he saw her, then stop, panic, run away and generally feel stupid. As opposed to Veronique, Mary was the best player they had. She preferred playing either the right or left midfield, rather than central. She was one of the few who could get past the 'Gilbert wall' as they called it, and even then it was rare. It had nothing to do with the fact that the two were dating, but more that neither of them were the type to give any mercy in a competition. Apparently she had a younger brother named Arthur who desired to become a professional player. He was therefore even more competitive and to her chagrin, was the better player. However, for reasons no one felt like explaining to Lovino, Arthur refused to join the summer group.

Still, Mary always spared Lovino a smile. It was a smile with an almost wild edge to it, making him feel like he was staring at a beautiful wildcat of some kind. Lovino could never stop looking at her though, staring at her back, spying the tattoo peeking out from behind the sweaty tank top that he could never make out. Gilbert for his part found his tiny competition absolutely amusing and offered 'awesome' lessons, so that one day, Lovino could have a chance of stealing her away. It was odd, but Lovino was never jealous of Gilbert, but the couple were not prone to cuddles or gestures like Francis and Veronique. Once, Lovino asked Mary for a cigarette after he spied her smoking one. It was the first and only time he ever saw her so flustered. She put it out and he never saw her smoke again.

The most significant thing that came out of Lovino's little crush on Mary was speaking English. Mary did not speak Spanish beyond knowing how to introduce herself and ask for directions, and her amused conversations with him gave Lovino newfound incentive to actually listen to the language and decipher her accent. This of course, led to him having to deal with everyone else suddenly preferring to speak English, except for Francis and Antonio.

As for Antonio, as far as Lovino could tell, he was not dating anyone, which meant that Francis would run over and grope him as much as possible after every goal. Though it was normal for players to become affectionate after a goal was scored, Lovino felt it was overdone that Francis would grab anything of Antonio that he could get his hands on, even when the other team scored.

Somehow, Lovino ended up being Antonio's responsibility. He had no idea how it happened, but Antonio looked to Lovino's wellbeing more than the rest. He laughed off insults and curses and spoiled Lovino whenever he could. At first it was sweets so that Lovino would have energy to play a game. After he realized that Lovino was stealing the tomatoes he packed as snacks for himself, Antonio simply brought more tomatoes. It reached a point where Francis started calling Lovino 'the little Prince', which was soon changed by Antonio to 'Tomato Princeling'. Lovino did not enjoy any of these nicknames but was powerless to stop them, no matter how much fuss he kicked up.

In honest moments however, Lovino was grateful for Antonio. True to his promise, Antonio did buy Lovino a pair of football sneakers and two additional sets of clothes. The sports clothes he bought Lovino were always freshly washed for each day. Antonio even started loaning Lovino his metrocard, topped full with money, and did not look bothered when Lovino asked if he were afraid it would get lost. Antonio only looked at Lovino with a frighteningly knowing expression and said. "Well what can I say Tomato? I think that you're going to make sure you don't lose it."

Afterwards, Lovino made sure no one followed him home, but there was never any sign of Antonio or the others from the field. Besides, Antonio was right. The moment Lovino lost the metrocard, he was trapped again, until he managed to somehow find more money to buy another card. Furthermore, no one ever came knocking on the door searching for him or his mother, so it appeared that his secret was safe.

Before he knew it, the whole summer passed, with only one week left of playing with the group. Lovino was never caught and he now felt a sense of loss. He never expected to have to keep this secret this long, but now he was faced with the reality of losing his football days. Everyone would return to school, and next year even if the group met, they would not be the same. Gilbert would leave for good as this summer was a one-time visit for him anyway, Mattias and Lukas were graduating and who knew what else would change?

'Maybe it's a blessing,' he thought to himself, on his now familiar bus ride. 'I can't keep this up forever. I'm going to get caught.' How long could he hope to play without injury? Or some other obvious sign of his secret? It was also tiring, keeping his football life a secret from his mother, and keeping his home life hidden from Antonio and the rest of the group.

When Lovino arrived at the field, he found a somber group. Even the unusually cheerful ones like Antonio, Veronique, Matthias and Francis looked upset. He knew it was serious when Matthias and Lukas openly held hands.

"Hey…" he grabbed Antonio's arm. "What happened? Why do you all look so…sad?"

Surprised, Antonio smiled, though it was hollow. "Hello there, little Prince. We're glad you could make it." Somehow, Antonio never failed to greet Lovino with some form of that statement every day. "We're just mourning for Mary. She's not here today see? Gilbert just told us that her father died last night rather unexpectedly. She's packing up with her family to return to England, and I don't think she'll come back to Spain for a long time."

Lovino gaped at Antonio, and then looked at the rest.

"Yeah, kid." Gilbert said. "It's…" he sighed. "Well, it's sad. Not many ways to put it. But it's also a tough job to pack up a whole house on sudden notice, so we were talking about going to the Kirkland's place to help them do that as much as we can."

Lovino stayed silent. He had no idea what was appropriate to do, only he wished that Mary could be there so he could…do what? Hug her? What good would that do? He tried to think about what it meant to lose your father, and hit that wall of uncomfortable truth that he usually avoided in his mind. He didn't have a father either, not for a long time, and never dared to ask his mother about him. She avoided the topic so well that he knew it was not something to talk about. Then Lovino looked to the empty field that would not be used today, and his brain recalled a mostly forgotten dream of a smiling man in a bright green field and he felt a sudden, overwhelming loss that he did not want to understand.

He did not realize he was crying until gentle fingers wiped his face, and he was taken into familiar arms. "Ah, Romano," Antonio muttered. "I'm sorry for telling it to you like that, I should have found a nicer way." Francis smiled sympathetically and handed Lovino some tissues, which he grabbed shoved against his nose.

"Antonio," Francis started. "Are you up for going to the Kirkland's home? Maybe you can stay with Romano…unless Romano, you want to come along?"

Lovino shook his head. He did not want to go to a house in mourning to see sad faces, with no idea of what he would do. Lovino felt Antonio's body stiffen, before it slowly relaxed. But Antonio's jaw was tight when he replied. "I'll see Mary and Mrs. Kirkland before they leave but I'll spare them the mess of whatever the hell would happen if Arthur and I are in the same damn room."

That seemed to settle everything, because afterwards, Lovino was sitting on the grass alone by the field with Antonio, staring into the distance under the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day for such sad news, but he recalled now, it was a beautiful day as well when his mother drove him away. Lovino wanted to ask about Mary's brother as there was clearly a story being hidden there, but did not know how. He was well trained by this point, to avoid topics that people did not wish to speak of, but he was curious about this mysterious boy who played better than Mary, and worked so hard to play professionally.

"Want a tomato?" Antonio broke the silence, handing over a big, red and juicy one.

Lovino took it without looking at Antonio. "How do you always get such good ones?" He demanded.

Laughing, Antonio lifted a finger to his lips and winked. "That's a secret. But only the best tomatoes can be offered to the Tomato Princeling after all!"

Lovino groaned. Honestly, why did Antonio always say such stupid and embarrassing things? "Stop treating me like a 2 year old." He bit out.

Antonio only chuckled. "Sorry Romano," he did not sound like he really meant it. "Bear with me. I never got a chance to know my siblings so maybe I try too hard. Do you have siblings little prince?"

Lovino closed his eyes. He saw flashes of chubby cheeks, tiny fingers with a strong grip around his own little finger, the same warm brown eyes as Mama and non-stop nonsense babble that should not have been so adorable, but was. His heart clenched in protest at the memory, so he opened his eyes and answered simply.

"No." It was barely a whisper.

Antonio shifted, those frightening knowing eyes settling on Lovino, and Lovino looked away. He told himself that he didn't care if Antonio knew he was lying, but some memories were just too painful. How could that happy Spaniard ever understand? Why was he only ever painfully stupid or terrifyingly smart? It couldn't be normal.

"Alright," Antonio replied, in disbelieving tone. "How about this? What's your dream Romano? What do you want to be when you're older?"

"You really gotta stop the interrogation bastardo!" Lovino shot back. He was feeling extremely defensive after having to repress strong memories again. Then he had to fight back tears because why was it that Mama never spoke about Feli? Was there something she knew that she just was not telling him? Did something happen to his little brother and was that why they left? Suddenly, he was afraid. "If we're not going to play or do anything today, I'm leaving!" he huffed, slightly panicked, trying to stand, but stumbled as he did so. Antonio caught and steadied him, smiling calmly.

"I want to be a singer." Antonio suddenly grinned.

Incredulous, Lovino stopped moving and stared at the older boy. "Seriously?!"

"Seriously." Antonio nodded. "I play the guitar you know? And you might think this is really pathetic but I love watching Eurovision, The Voice, all the Idols and all those talent shows. That's what I want to do. I want to be a singer. I want to find inspiration, write my own songs and share them with the world. Oh and dancing too. I bet you didn't know that I'm a great dancer!"

Antonio was only met with a disbelieving scoff. Lovino had no idea what the other things were but the idea of Antonio singing and dancing for a living was somehow ridiculous to him.

"Fine, how's this? I'll sing! Then after I'm done singing, you will applaud! And then we can practice some free kicks. When we take breaks you can ask me any question and I'll answer you. How's that?"

With a huff, Lovino answered. "Fine idiota." He found he as actually curious after all, if Antonio was as good as he said. The only music he had heard for the longest time was his mother singing in the morning. She had a sweet voice and Lovino was convinced no one could sound sweeter.

Antonio grinned, then started singing. His expression changed immediately, and a clear and soulful tenor voice filled the field with a slow but passionate ballad.

"_Dos Gardenias, para ti,_

_Con ellas quiero decir,_

_Te quiero, te adoro, me vida,_

_Ponles toda tú atención,_

_Que seran tú corazón,_

_Y el mío…"_

As Antonio continued to serenade the empty field, Lovino had to grudgingly agree. The airheaded Spaniard could sing well. Lovino felt the emotion of the song and could even imagine two dying gardenias wasting away in a plain glass vase in a quiet house. He still thought that romance was disgusting, thanks to Francis and Veronique, but maybe something like what Gilbert and Mary had was more appealing. Although, Lovino almost wished they were more affectionate. He tended to forget that they were a couple. Gilbert seemed to treat her the same way he treated Frances and Antonio. It was nothing like the love songs his mother occasionally sang. This song that Antonio chose was reminiscent of his mother's songs, sweet but sad.

When Antonio finished, he looked at Lovino with a smug expression, expecting applause. Instead, Lovino kicked the closest football onto the field and started running away.

"Hey! Come on Tomato! You owe me at least a few claps before we play! You agreed!" Antonio called out, grinning. He was going to sit there and not move until he got what he wanted. Lovino let out a grumble and gave five reluctant claps, before running warm up laps up and down the field.

Smiling, Antonio eventually joined him, and they spent the rest of the day as was promised. Lovino did not actually have many questions, but was wondering when Antonio would turn the offer around to ask questions of his own. He learned that neither of Antonio's parents lived in Spain, though both were Spanish. His father was the Spanish Ambassador to Mexico (whatever that meant), and his mother was married to a Portuguese man who owned a wine estate. Lovino also learned that Antonio's favorite color was red, and when he was 5 years old, he wanted to be a matador. Antonio also bragged that his love of music gave him an ear for languages, and in addition to Spanish and English, could also speak Portuguese, French, Catalan and Basque.

"Learn Italian and then maybe I'll congratulate you!" Lovino yelled, kicking the ball as hard as he could into the goal. Antonio caught it and called out "One day I will. I can't imagine it would be too difficult, being so close to Spanish and French." Tossing the ball out, Antonio returned to his first question. "Okay Romano. You know a lot about me now. I just want to know one thing about you. What do you want to be? I'm going to be a singer, how about you?"

Lovino snarled, aiming the ball for Antonio's head. "I don't know alright?! I don't think about it!"

Maddeningly, Antonio caught that ball too, as if he expected a shot to the head. "It's good to have dreams little Tomato Prince. Gives us something to look forward to, and it helps us know what makes us happy."

Lovino stopped, toeing the ball under his foot. What made him happy? Running made him happy, breathing grass and fresh air as opposed to the dusty air in his apartment or its nearby streets also made him happy. He supposed if he were honest, this crazy group of teenagers who celebrated picnics everyday, dated each other just to have crazy stories to tell and whom hailed from many corners of the world helped him feel happy too. Lovino looked at the teenager standing about 4 meters in front of him and thought that having someone to wanted to play with him, yet also take care of him helped. But there was no way he could ever tell Antonio that, so he said the next best thing. "Playing football makes me happy."

Football seemed to be the thing that always connected him to smiles, and happy memories.

Antonio gave a sunny smile in response. "That's great! Would you like to be a professional football player when you're older? How about wearing the _Azzuro_ for Italy and play for your country? Win back the World Cup…hey! You know, Spain won the last World Cup, but man, Italy was pretty bad in South Africa, and I mean terribly bad! I think you could teach them a thing or twoOH!" He fell over, clutching his stomach as the football rolled away. Lovino had kicked that with all the strength he had. "Wow, Romano." He wheezed. "Your aim has improved a lot!"

Snarling, Lovino ignored the ball and sat down in front of the pained Spaniard lying on the grass. "Don't insult Italy in front of me again."

"I was complementing you!"

"Shut up! Do I insult Spain in front of you? No! And I hate Spain! So just…" Lovino couldn't think of anything to say. "Just shut up." He finished lamely. Immediately he felt terrible, and refused to meet Antonio's eyes. He stared at an ant crawling through the grass like it was the most fascinating thing on earth. He did not really hate Spain; after all, he didn't know what Spain was beyond his apartment and this field. Lovino just hated being away from home. Though he did not know how to express that out loud.

After a moment of silence, Antonio sat up and placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Hey my little Prince, you're right, that wasn't nice of me, what I said. I don't always think about what I'm saying you know? And sports stuff tends to bring the competitive side out of me. Please don't look so sad."

Lovino's head shot up. "I'm not sad!"

Chuckling, Antonio squeezed Lovino's shoulder and stood up. Mutely, Lovino followed him and accepted a bottle of water.

"I'm sorry you feel that way Romano. I'm sure that Spain will never own your heart the way Italy does, and that's natural I guess. But…I also think that you should see more of Spain. Maybe one day I'll take you. I'm not saying that you need to love Spain, but," Antonio paused, confused for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know why I care so much Tomato. I just hope that one day I can convince you to like it. If you're going to live here, you may as well make the best of it, yes?"

Lovino shrugged and looked away. He was surprised that he felt hurt at Antonio's admission. All this time Lovino wondered why Antonio had somewhat adopted him, what made him special? And it turned out that Antonio did not know either. He felt the familiar queasiness run up his nose and heat around his eyes. 'Damnit, no!' he thought to himself. 'I'm not crying again! This is ridiculous!' So he started running, calling out, "I'm going home bastardo!"

"Romano wait!" Antonio yelled, running after him. "I'll take you home."

"NO!" Lovino panicked running even faster, but Antonio caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder.

"Hey," Antonio laughed, but this time Lovino knew it was fake. "Come on, it can't be safe for a little Tomato to be coming and going alone all this time. We're worried, and we've decided from now on that at least one of us must accompany you home. If we can agree on a time, we can pick you up as well. Ah damn the timing. I used to have a motorcycle! I could have…"

But Lovino wrenched himself away from Antonio, causing the older boy to stumble. He sprinted as fast as he could to the bus stop, where as luck would have it, his bus was about to leave. Jumping in just as the doors closed, he made his way to the back window to see Antonio panting and glaring at the bus.

Huffing, Lovino sank into his seat and fought back tears. He only allowed himself to cry once he made it home safely, cursing Antonio and the rest of the nosy group.

"Why am I so weak?" Lovino whispered to himself. He had risked himself and his mother all summer because he wanted to run outside and play. But would he be able to resist the temptation and stay home tomorrow? Thinking carefully he realized that even if he wanted to avoid Antonio and the teenager's curiosity, he needed to say goodbye to Mary. She was fond of him, and would definitely make at least one last visit to the field to see him.

Sighing, Lovino steeled himself to say goodbye to the field as well. The summer was ending anyway and he would accept that. At least then he will have enjoyed one God-given summer of freedom, and would return to his way of life without question.

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Notes:

_Distel – _Gilbert's term of endearment for Mary, which is just German for 'Thistle', Scotland's flower. He's fond of the term because he finds her beautiful, yet prickly. It's also the tattoo she has that Lovino can't see clearly.

Antonio is singing 'Dos Gardenias' by the Buena Vista Social Club. Check out this lovely song here: watch?v=rublV5LQ5Ds


	3. Chapter 3

The Tale of the Tomato Princeling

Football!AU

Rating: T

Characters: South Italy/Lovino Romano Vargas, Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Prussia/Gilbert Beilschmidt, France/Francis Bonnefoy, England/Arthur Kirkland, Ancient Rome/Roma Silvia, OC Scotland/Mary Kirkland, Seychelles/Veronique Michel, Norway/Lukas Bøndevik and Denmark/Matthias Andersen

Pairings: Prussia/Female Scotland, France/Seychelles, Spain/England (implied past)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Thank goodness Hidekazu Himaruya encourages us to play with his creations!

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Note: Thank you to furrfurr2001 for becoming my beta reader!

Also, major major thank you's to everyone who followed, favorited and left reviews! I'm truly grateful and overjoyed that you guys are enjoying this story. Sorry for the delay between posts, I expect I'll update this story once a month.

Also, congratulations to Germany for dominating this World Cup! I was not able to watch the tournament this round, but I heard from my friends that every game in this World Cup was phenomenal! My poor Antonio and Lovi will be able to take solace in each other's mutual early elimination from the competition, but there's always room for the future.

(Who else giggled when Japan faced Greece in the World Cup in an elimination battle and they ended up in a tie? I know I did).

As this story currently takes place in 2013, we're actually ahead of the game from these guys.

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Chapter Three

Lovino's gritty determination to see the field one last time and give everyone, especially Mary, a proper goodbye was forgotten as soon as he woke to a silent morning. It was not supposed to be silent. His mother sang every day without fail while she made breakfast.

With that realization, Lovino shot up, his eyes desperately looking for his mother. She was not in the kitchen, that only left the bathroom to check.

"Mama?! Mama are you in there?" He called in a panic, banging on the door. Lovino pressed his ear against the wood and heard her retching. "Mama!" He tried the doorknob. Thankfully it was unlocked and Lovino rushed in, reaching immediately to his mother, who was hunched over the toilet bowl.

"Oh caro," she sighed. "I was really hoping that you wouldn't have to see me like this."

Lovino ignored her words and reached for her forehead. "Mama, you're burning! You can't work today, you have to rest!"

He knew by now that he could only suggest seeing a doctor once all the other options were exhausted. For the most part, his mother kept them both healthy. Their diet was ideal, and at most they caught harmless colds once or twice a year. Lovino could only remember one instance when he had a fever bad enough to cause a doctor's visit.

"Oh my sweet boy... does my Lovi think he could ever forgive me for making him grow up so soon?" She looked at him with tired and delirious brown eyes, her face was pallid and her lips too pale.

Her words shocked Lovino. He did not really know what they meant, since he was not grown at all. If he were, he would have simply picked his mother up and carried her to the bed or hospital. But he was still too small and weak. He needed to convince her to go there on her own. Lovino took her arm, gently urging her away from the toilet bowl. "Mama please, go lie down on the bed." He pleaded. "Lie down for me please. I'll get you medicine but first you need to rest." When she did not move he could only repeat himself a little louder, but still desperate. "Please! Mama…I need you." He meant to finish the sentence with 'to move to the bed', but he hiccuped before he could, and his mother's eyes suddenly shined with determination and she moved.

Once he got her to the bed, he ran to their medicine cabinet and looked for the painkillers. He was surprised to find that they were running out. His mother usually made sure that their food and medicine supplies never ran low. That was a problem for later though, at this moment, he needed to make sure his mother was all right.

After about an hour of coaxing his mother to take medicine, and dabbing her face with a wet towel, she finally fell asleep. Lovino spent the rest of the day rummaging around their small home for more medicine, taking stock of what was actually running low in the household, including food just in case.

The rest of the day passed with him remaining in a state of constant panic. When she slept he cooked and checked her temperature, then spent the rest of the time silent and anxious as he stared at her, praying and wishing for her to miraculously be well. When she awoke he fed her, and only became even more anxious because of her nonsensical and deluded words.

Once she sang 'Bella, Ciao' while crying for an hour, another time she called him 'Feli' and tried to sing him a lullaby, making his own heart feel like it was breaking into pieces, and finally, she screamed when she saw him and pushed him off the bed before curling up into a ball.

"Mama...?" He whispered, hurting because he had never seen her so broken before now and there was nothing he could do to make it better. There was a moment of lucidity he saw in her eyes when she opened them, before she collapsed into herself again.

"Oh caro, oh Lovi, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry, did I hurt you?" she cried.

"No Mama! Not at all, I'm fine! But you need a doctor, please!" he begged.

His mother seemed calm suddenly, thinking about it. "I'm too tired Lovi, we'll think about the doctor tomorrow. It's too late to go now. Until then,...I need you to stay away. I don't want you to get sick, alright?" She smiled, trying to look comforting but it had the exact opposite effect. Two could play at that game though, so Lovi nodded, and held her hand anyway, as she lost her composure and cried herself to sleep.

Sitting in the floor by the bed, he worried furiously. As far as he knew, they were not registered in their neighborhood, which meant that they did not have a medical card to seek free healthcare. When Antonio, Francis and Gilbert took him to a doctor earlier in the summer, it was a private clinic, and they paid the bill.

Lovino suddenly felt exhausted as he looked out the windows. It was dark out and he missed the game, which meant that he was not able to say goodbye to Mary, or to the rest of them for that matter. As he took in his silent and lonely apartment, with his mother frowning and twisting in her sleep, he fought back tears again. He had no idea how to further care for his mother, or how she had even allowed herself to become so ill. Lovino needed help. Looking at her again, he took a deep breath. He could only think of one solution – find his way to the field again once it was light enough and get help.

Lovino would face the consequences afterwards, whatever they were. If his mother wanted to move or change the lock, or whoever knows what after he revealed his secret, then she could do it – as long as she was healthy when she did. Feeling resolved, and lonely once again, Lovino crawled to lie down next to an open window, which allowed him a view of the stars as he finally dozed off.

She was weaker when he woke up, burning and coughing, and all he could do was give her water. He felt a little sick to his stomach, thinking that her weakness was a good thing today – she would not have the strength to stop him from running out the door and getting help. When he finally got her to sleep again, Lovino slumped against the window, looking out but not focused on anything. He was tired, but had to wait another two hours at least before he could go to the field. Then, someone familiar in the periphery of his vision caught his eye.

Eyes widening, Lovino stuck his head out the window for a better look. "It can't be…" he breathed. At that moment, Antonio looked up and saw him, waving away the stranger he was talking to.

"Romano!" He called, simultaneously worried and angry, but Lovino waved at him, gesturing at the older boy to stay quiet. Quickly he closed the window and ran to his mother's purse to grab the keys. Taking a quick look at her sleeping form, he took a big breath.

This was it, this was him running out the door and her knowing about it. This would be his two secret worlds colliding. Lovino crossed himself and muttered a quick prayer before dashing to the door, opening it and running downstairs to Antonio.

As soon as Antonio saw Lovino, he ran to him, but before he could say anything, Lovino cried "I have no idea how you found me bastardo but I need your help! Please! My mother needs a doctor and I don't know what to do!"

Antonio looked at him, shocked for just a moment, but in a second, gazed down at Lovino with piercing eyes and nodded. "Take me to her Romano."

They ran up the stairs to the apartment as Lovino babbled about her condition."She's been ill since yesterday! Her fever won't break, and we're out of medicine. She's weak, she coughs, we don't know any doctors! I don't think she wants to go! And I tried my best! She just won't get better!"

"Romano." Antonio stopped and looked Lovino, kind, yet commanding. "Listen to me. You're a strong boy, but right now, for just a few more hours I need to you be stronger okay? Can you do that?"

Lovino gulped and nodded.

"Good. Now I will take your mother to a doctor. You have to promise me that you will do exactly as I say, okay?"

Taking a few breaths, Lovino nodded again and Antonio spared a quick squeeze on his shoulder before they ran off to the apartment.

Lovino was hoping that his mother would be sitting up in bed already, having caught his escape, but it was worse. She was still passed out on the bed, and sure enough when he ran to her, she was still burning up. He looked at Antonio helplessly, then remembered his promise and instead demanded. "Well bastardo? What now?!"

With a small, brief smile, Antonio easily picked his mother up from the bed and started walking out the door. "Now, and only if anyone asks, you're going to pretend to be my little brother for a few hours."

"WHAT?!"

"Now, now, my tomato princeling, remember your promise!" Antonio chirped. "Exactly as I say!"

Lovino grumbled as he followed Antonio into the taxi, then sat quietly and sullen as he realized that he was no longer frightened, not now that Antonio was there. If only he were older, he could have taken care of his mother without needing any help.

The rest of the day passed curiously. Antonio took them to the same clinic as he brought Lovino to before, except this time he spent a longer time speaking to the Doctor, who gave Lovino and his mother some searching looks. In the end apparently, his mother was going to be alright, she was simply exhausted, and in such a state, her body could not fight off even the simplest flu.

The Doctor that attended to her was an older man with salt and pepper hair, whom Antonio simply called 'Doctor. Carlos'. He seemed to know Antonio very well, at least that was how it looked to Lovino based on the numerous exasperated sighs the man gave as the excitable teenager explained the situation in dialect that Lovino could not understand.

In the end, Doctor Carlos examined his mother and declared to him, "It was a good thing that you brought her here. She needs plenty of rest. I've given her a few shots, including one to make her sleep for the next few hours. She can stay here." Lovino balled his hands into fists at the condescending tone that the Doctor was using, but he was the only one who could help his mother now, so he willed himself to ignore it. "In the meantime," Doctor Carlos continued, "I'll be prescribing some medicine. She can't work for the next few days." After a suspicious look at Antonio, the doctor disappeared, muttering something about writing up a letter.

Lovino looked at his mother sleeping peacefully and was suddenly reminded of Feliciano. From what he could remember, his little brother was a tiny version of her. Even as a baby he already had her smile, her fairer colored hair, brown eyes and lighter skin. For Lovino, it was only the general shape of his face which marked him as his mother's son, and that thought depressed him, especially after yesterday when she saw something in him that frightened her so much.

Antonio walked up behind him and pulled him to sit down on a nearby chair. "Is it just you and your mother?"

This was Antonio's serious voice, not the playing one, so Lovino answered without any fuss. "Yes. Just me and her and our apartment." He shrugged. Lovino still cast anxious eyes to the bed, unsure of how much he could tell Antonio and wondering if it was worth still keeping secrets anyway.

Thankfully, Antonio did not ask. He did however, have that look in his eyes that scared Lovino, the one he had when he was being smart and could see through any lie.

"Well," Lovino continued softly. "I did have a little brother...once." He dropped his eyes to the floor, not wanting to look at that piercing stare anymore. Lovino clenched his fists again, because he was not going to cry, not again. He saw Antonio's shoes step closer and soon, Lovino was enveloped in those familiar arms.

"I'm sorry to hear that Romano." Antonio murmured, patting his back softly.

Lovino did not say anything, he only held onto Antonio for a long time. Thankfully he did not cry. He swore that when his mother woke up, he was going to ask her about Feli, even if he kept quiet about everything else.

After a few more quiet moments passed, Antonio's cheerful voice returned. "Well my little prince, there's not going to be much for you to do if you stay here all day, she's definitely not waking up anytime soon." Antonio stepped back and smiled. "Anyway, I get the feeling that you haven't eaten yet today, and look at the time! It's picnic lunch time at our field! If we head over there now, we'll still be able to have some of that before we play! I'll bring you back here afterwards. How about that?"

Lovino looked up at that beaming face and wondered how it was possible to know so many people in his life who were impossible to turn down once they smiled. His mother knew that trick, and he suspected that Feliciano was not the idiot toddler he seemed to be. As much as Lovino still felt love for him, he remembered how that cunning baby always got his way! It must be instinct! One that he himself never inherited, and now he had Antonio who could do it as well.

Damn these smilers. Lovino gave his mother a long look, then he stood from the chair and walked out of the room.

Antonio hurried after him, waving to nurses and clinic staff as he went. It was odd how well they all seemed to know him.

"Hey Roma, you don't need to play today if you're tired, it's up to you."

"Are you kidding me bastardo?!" Lovino scoffed. "I need to run!"

With that, they made their way by bus to the familiar field, and Lovino suddenly felt nervous. He just remembered this week's significance - Mary was leaving and he had to say goodbye. Actually, he would have to say farewell to everyone, since he was sure that after today, his mother would never let him out again.

Antonio had Lovino's clothes ready as usual, and the moment they reached the field itself, Mary ran over and grabbed Lovino into a hug, making him blush furiously.

"You did find him." Francis drawled, approaching behind her next to a rather weird looking boy that Lovino had not seen before. He had ugly hair, wavy, shaggy and grown past his ears, dyed black with washed out green highlights and noticeable blonde roots. Lovino felt an immediate distaste for him, because even though they never had much, his mother always taught him to take pride in his own appearance! How could anyone step outside looking like that? And what about those thick and dark eyebrows! If Mary wasn't holding him so tight, he would have said something. Then Lovino noticed the other boy's eyes - they were a familiar shade of vivid bright green and he realized that he was finally looking at the mysterious Arthur Kirkland.

"Hello _bambino_! I'm so glad you came! I missed you yesterday!" She smiled, distracting him from her brother. Lovino awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, hoping he could in fact, disappear. Why did he blush so easily?!

"Er...um...sorry, I..." Lovino looked at his feet, before suddenly blurting out. "I'm sorry about your father!" Gasping at his own stupidity, he slapped his hands over his face. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

Mary thankfully was not offended, though she was sad as she hugged him tighter. "Thanks Romano. Anyway, I'm glad that you came back today, because before we say goodbye, there's someone I want you to meet."

Lovino looked expectedly at the blonde/green/black haired boy, who scrutinized him coolly and carefully in return. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and too pale skin, Arthur Kirkland held himself with his back straight and an air of stiff superiority. Lovino's eyes drifted to Arthur's white shirt and the crest on its right – three red lions snarled within a shield, topped by a red star. There was something so familiar about the design of that shirt and the meaning of that star, except Lovino remembered something blue. Shaking his head clear, Lovino almost yelled at Arthur to say something, but Mary beat him to it.

"Do you feel like introducing your fine self sometime today little brother?" She sighed, annoyed.

Arthur spared her a brief glance, then looked somewhere behind Lovino before his eyes narrowed. Lovino turned around to see Gilbert grinning, strolling up to them with an arm casually slung around Antonio's neck. Antonio was trying to smile and failing miserably, looking more like he was baring his teeth. That feral grin, combined with a wild fury in his eyes made Lovino take a few steps back.

"_Hola corazón_!" Antonio called pleasantly. "Well, you heard your sister, how about you introduce yourself?"

Gilbert groaned and smacked Antonio on the back of the head, while Mary moved to stand in front of Antonio, shielding her brother from his view. "You promised you'd hold it together Antonio!" She yelled. "I know you both have your issues, but let's remember why Arthur is here. He has as much a right to say goodbye to his friends as I do. Besides, look at what you did. You look like a downright maniac when you smile like that you know? You've scared Romano!"

Lovino turned around before he could see what the reaction was. He looked at Arthur again, and while Gilbert, Francis, Antonio and Mary were busy behind him, the otherwise quiet Lukas had approached.

"While they're occupied, how about we play? Of course Arthur, you should refrain from starting any fires, fights or making things explode."

Lovino looked at Arthur in shock. Lukas never made jokes, which must have meant he was serious.

Arthur smirked and shrugged. "Understood. As long as the raging bull over there keeps it together, I will." He turned his eyes to Lovino and added very condescendingly, "Well Romano, let's play shall we?"

Lovino let out a breath he did not realize he was holding and was confused. How could Arthur be Mary's brother when he sounded and looked so different? Mary's words almost seemed to run together, as if she was yelling out one very long word, whereas Arthur's words were clipped and precise.

He forgot that as soon as he realized that he was going to play with someone who trained everyday without fail to be a pro! The level of this game would be different. Sure Arthur looked ugly, but still. "Bring it on eyebrows!" He yelled, running out onto the field feeling happy and excited, with the echo of Francis' laughter behind.

"What?! That little…!"

A ball was thrown into play and the game began. What followed was the most intense game Lovino ever played. Arthur Kirkland was good, really good, and the game was less of a game and more of a lesson. Lovino was resentful because football was supposed to be fun, not full of lectures, but he could not stop listening because it was impossible to ignore Arthur yelling out instructions throughout the game in that obnoxiously loud voice of his:

"Play with your head up Romano! Don't look up for teammates only after you get the ball!"

"Plan your passes out Romano! If you know what's going on, that won't be a problem!"

"A team Romano! You're playing on a team! Pass the ball! Lukas was wide open just now but you didn't know that did you! You're not keeping your head up!"

"For God's sake all of you! He's a kid but that doesn't mean you all have to play like kids as well! Challenge him! Just make sure you don't tackle or hurt him!"

"Romano! Watch me and learn how to handle larger opponents! Hey! Watch! Matthias come here!"

They had to deal with Arthur yelling and issuing orders throughout the game, which was quite impressive, considering that he was constantly running as well. Lovino was jealous. One, Lovino had no idea what Arthur was talking about sometimes when he referred to other players and teams (Lovino assumed they were professional) and two, he had become so used to being the best on the field that meeting someone obnoxiously better was annoying. But he could not doubt that he was learning a lot.

At half time Lovino sat on the sloped grassy hill that overlooked the field, observing Arthur practicing free kicks against Gilbert. Arthur managed to score about half the shots so far. It was the only time he saw Gilbert concentrating so hard. Whenever Lovino had to go against Gilbert, he tended to score out of luck than actual skill. He was starting to feel extremely insignificant.

"Relax Romano," Antonio's came behind him, calm now and offering water. Lovino drank it greedily. "Remember my tomato princeling, Arthur's fourteen, Gilbert's sixteen and he'll be joining a club once he returns to Germany and you're nine. Rather precocious and well coordinated for your age, but still a kid. Arthur wasn't as good as you are now when he was ten."

Lovino wanted to bask in that praise but found that he could not. Instead he asked Antonio. "How is he doing that?"

Antonio shrugged as he settled down next to Lovino. "Arthur scoring? It's simple. Arthur's been practicing free kicks for years. Every kick Arthur makes is aimed precisely. Don't forget, he's had Mary at home to play and compete against, and when he decided that football would be his thing well, he studied everything about it. He watches and rewatches games, spends hours studying them, pours over football history, coaches, techniques...argh! It's maddening, he has a talent for turning something that's fun for most people into another chore but anyway. That's how he scores off Gilbert, notice how his shots curve at the end. Arthur got that from studying David Beckham."

When it was clear that Lovino had no idea who that was, Antonio raised his eyebrows curiously and continued to explain.

"Look at his shots. The ball doesn't travel to where you think it's going to right? It's really useful for corner kicks. He's trying to trick Gilbert every time with misdirection. No worries though, Gilbert's a wall when he feels like it, that's why he's got a spot in the youth system."

Lovino looked down, glum. There would be no football school or youth system for him. In fact there was nothing in his future that he knew about, only eventually helping out his mother and protecting her from…whatever.

"Don't look so glum my little tomato!" Antonio laughed, moving to ruffle Lovino's hair.

"Hey!" Lovino protested. "Stop that! Don't mess up my hair! Why do you always do that?!"

"I can't help it! You have this one stubborn curl…"

"DON'T TOUCH MY HAIR!"

"Now now _enfants_, Antonio, let the boy rest hmm?" Francis sauntered up next to them, giving Lovino the customary seeking glance.

Lovino huffed and turned away, trying to ignore the discomforting French boy. "Hey Antonio, why do you hate that Arthur guy so much?"

Francis looked heavenward and Antonio only scrutinized Lovino's face carefully, a sad expression on his face. "That is…quite the story Romano. But not for today. Some other time when I'm ready to tell you okay?"

Lovino was about to protest but Antonio rarely ever looked sad or angry, and he had been both today. So rather than hitting him or insulting him, Lovino only 'humpfed' and turned back to the half-time show.

The break was a long one as usual, to allow Lovino to catch his breath. He couldn't wait until he was older and able to exert himself like the others. He took extra care to memorize everyone's faces and their field. Then he wondered if there was any small chance that he could still see Antonio, since he clearly helped them earlier today. It was hard to tell, but Lovino wanted at least one part of this field to stay with him, even if he were forbidden to return. As if reading Lovino's mind, a big hand settled on his shoulder, comforting. When Lovino looked up, it was to Antonio's smiling face, encouraging and patient.

Then it was time to play again, so Lovino played and Arthur coached and Lovino learned to be terrified of Mary's brother. Finally at the end of the game, Arthur took his shirt off and approached Lovino, who had decided to lie down on the grassy hill.

"First off," Arthur said, "The worst thing you can do for yourself after running around as much as you did, is to collapse in a heap like you just have, so sit up."

Lovino grumbled and didn't want to move, but Antonio lifted him up, pointedly not looking at Arthur.

"Second…" he waited for Lovino to look at him. When Lovino did, Arthur paused, like he had forgotten what he was about to say. When he did speak again, it was with a careful tone, not quite as strict as he had been all day. "Second, I hope you continue playing here over the next summer and that you…trust this group. Even without me or Gilbert here, they'll train you up and care for you."

Annoyed and scared, Lovino shot out "Train me for what?!"

Arthur ignored the question and held out his shirt instead, which was soaked in sweat and in all the wrong colors. "Take this. It's for you."

Lovino opened his eyes wide in surprise. He knew once again from some unknown place in his mind that this act was significant. Instinctually, he started to pull his own shirt off but Arthur and Antonio's joint surprised laughter stopped him.

"What is it you idiots?" Lovino demanded just as they two older boys stopped.

Arthur gave Antonio a strange look before looking back gently at Lovino. "Nothing Romano, it's just that I couldn't steal away your clothes, you need to wear it home."

Amazingly, still ignoring Arthur, it was Antonio who responded. "No worries princeling! I have your clean shirt in the bag." He suddenly picked Lovino up and gave him a bear hug. "Ah! You're so cute you know that Romano?! Such an adorable little tomato!"

"Ack! Let go stupid! This is embarrassing!" Eventually Lovino managed to wriggle his way out of Antonio's arms and huffed as he stood up, holding his shirt out to Arthur.

Chuckling, Arthur took it, and they exchanged jerseys. "Thanks Romano." He eyed the plain navy blue children's Nike dry-fit shirt that he had just received and smiled. "I'll keep this. You keep yours, and you and I will meet again."

With that declaration, Arthur nodded once at Antonio and walked off to where the rest of the group gathered around Gilbert's beer. From the back, Lovino could see his tattoos clearly - the dragon that peeked out from the top of his shorts, its head at Arthur's hip and waist, the rest of its body hidden. On one shoulder was a running lion, snarling and backed by thorny roses. Lovino stared, transfixed, part of him wondering how loud his mother would scream if he ever thought of getting a tattoo, another part of his mind wondered about Mary's own collection but most of all, he wondered about this mystery that was Arthur Kirkland - a well spoken boy, a dedicated student and passionate teacher who also apparently, put a lot of effort into looking like an absolute mess and blew things up. It was hard to imagine that this boy was real! Could Lovino dedicate himself to something the way Arthur had? It was too much work.

Gilbert and Mary burst on the scene not long after, distracting him from his worries.

Happy and blushing, holding a can of beer in one hand, Gilbert picked Lovino up and gave him a big one-armed hug. "Little man! You are going to have it easy next year without the AWESOME me defending goal! I know you're going to cry because you're about to be bereft of the most AWESOME goalie to ever be born! But don't cry Romano! You'll see me again one day, I'll autograph the posters you buy of me! Just don't get lazy!"

Mary laughed as she took Lovino from Gilbert, enveloping him in a hug.

"Oh I'm gonna miss you, you adorable little _bambino_! And take care of that shirt okay? That was Arthur's favorite. Most importantly though, take care of yourself. Don't get into any trouble." With a kiss to Lovino's cheek, Mary too walked away to say goodbye to the others, Gilbert following behind her.

Lovino sat in silence for a while, holding and contemplating the shirt that Arthur gave him. He fingered the red-bordered crest and the three snarling lions within and the red star. Antonio was content to sit by Lovino, making sure that he drank water and didn't get too pensive.

"Antonio." Lovino finally whispered.

"Yes little prince, what is it?"

"What does this star mean?"

Antonio looked at Lovino in surprise, and Lovino wanted to punch himself for not knowing something so obvious. He braced himself for the invasive questions to begin again but surprisingly, Antonio simply answered Lovino's question.

"Well, just as Mary was born in Scotland and spent most her years there with her father, Arthur was born in England and mostly grew up there with his mother. He's very proud to be English, and they're one of the more well-known national football teams. This jersey, is of the same design that the English team wore at the last World Cup in South Africa."

Lovino tried to think back to his mother's geography lessons, the blank world map she once made him fill in. He had written 'Italia' over the familiar peninsula and left the rest blank.

"Well the star above the shield means that England is a former World Cup victor. They won a long time ago, I forget the date. They're otherwise a pretty pathetic team nationally. If you see the yellow and green jersey for Brazil, there'll be five stars. And the blue for Italy…"

"FOUR!" Lovino suddenly yelled. The memory of the Azzuro from his dreams with four white stars suddenly came crashing back at him clearly. "Italia has won the Cup four times!"

Antonio looked down at him shrewdly, scaring Lovino again. There was a calculative look on Antonio's face, trying to figure out the mystery that was this boy who appeared from nowhere and had such an interesting, selective knowledge of the world. It almost scared Lovino as well that with access to his mother, Antonio had the means uncovering that mystery, including details Lovino did not know, and who knew what he would do with it?

"Yes Romano, you're right. I should have known you'd know that. Italy's jersey has four stars above the crest." Antonio placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder, scrutinizing him closely, eyes narrowing. Lovino looked away pretending to study the lions on Arthur's shirt instead.

After what felt like a long time, Antonio happy announced. "And as you know! Spain has one star! It was amazing Lovi! I didn't tell you last time that I was one of the guys celebrating on the streets to welcome the team back did I?!" He pulled Lovino up and took the white shirt. Lovino desperately tried to grab it back.

"Give it back!" Lovino was afraid that Antonio would trash the shirt or burn it since he hated Arthur so much, but Antonio only smiled back.

"I thought didn't want to bring anything from here home? That's why I pack you extra clothes isn't it?"

Lovino stopped fighting and looked down suddenly, "Oh…yes." He reluctantly released the jersey.

Antonio sighed, crouching on his knees in front of Lovino, as he did when he was serious and trying to be comforting. "Hey, I'm not going to ruin it. I promise you. I'll bring it home for you, wash it and I'll keep it together with all your other things in my room. If you want, I'll even bring it back when we start our league again next year for you to wear. How about that my tomato? Will you join us again here next year?"

Lovino shrugged. "Well actually, now that I think about it, I do want that jersey. I only didn't want to wear my sports clothes home before because I didn't want Mama to find out. But, she's going to know after today so...I may not be able to join next year and if that's the case, I want to keep the shirt."

Antonio looked thoughtful for a moment, calculating something in his mind, even as a smile curled on his lips. "Would it help if I spoke to your mother Romano?" he finally asked.

"I don't know bastardo, I really don't." Lovino sighed.

Pulling out his phone, Antonio looked at the time. "Well, we need to head back to the clinic anyway and I'll have to tell your mother everything Doctor Carlos said. We may as well talk about you playing with us. Maybe I can win her trust." Then he pulled a warm and charming smile.

Lovino frowned at this sight, grabbing Arthur's jersey back from him, because if Antonio thought that his smiles would fool his mother, there was no way Lovino would see Antonio again.

Why did that thought make him feel so lost?

* * *

**Notes**:

As this story takes place in 2013, Arthur isn't wearing the more recent red English jersey, and Antonio still has bragging rights over the Spanish national team.

Yes, sadly it's still possible to die from the flu in this day and age if your body is overworked an exhausted. Your immune system simply can't keep up.


End file.
